Elemental Rain
by TMNTKunoich
Summary: They were always different. But even more different than they first knew. For awhile after they discover their power, they are happy. But eventually, tragedy strikes, and grief overrules his mind. Then the others have to choose- save their brother, or save their world. Because they can only have one.
1. Chapter 1

**New fic… yeah, I know. I really need to stray on task, but this idea hit me after reading a whole bunch of fantasy fics and I couldn't resist! I know, I'm terrible, I'm sorry!**

 **Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own TMNT. Never have, and likely never will =/**

It was dark. It was wet. It was cold. It was suffocating.

And he was _drowning_.

He tried to scream, tried to yell, tried to cal for help! But whenever he tried, freezing, salty water forced its way down his throat and he gagged some more. It entered his lungs, burning them, filling them, stealing his breath away, making him choke.

A wave pounded over his head, forcing the child down. Tears would have welled up if he wasn't now seven feet under the surface. A fierce current forced its way into his nose as he was tossed around under the waves. His ears popped and pressure pounded beneath his skull. As a riptide grabbed him and began to drag him out and up, he caught sight of the surface. Gray light, as cold and unwelcoming as the ocean he was drowning in, filtered down to him.

His frail body broke the surface for just a moment, and he coughed and wheezed desperately, harsh salt water stinging his eyes, throat, and sinuses. He desperately tread the rough water, spinning around, looking for something, _anything,_ that could help him. The waves were high, far above his head, and he barely had time to yelp as another came down on his head. He was forced down, and didn't even have the strength to struggle anymore. He couldn't hold his breath, and water flooded his fragile lungs. He choked, and then his eyes fluttered closed uselessly. It was dark and cold… so so dark and cold.

And he drowned.

…

He screamed as a burning beam came crashing down only three inches from his face, nearly flattening him, sending embers and sparks dancing into the air. Had he not been running for his life, the sparks dancing in the breeze like tiny glowing fairies might have been pretty. Beautiful, even.

He shrieked, or tried to. Smoke entered his lungs, and his eyes streamed as he broke into a coughing fit. He stumbled backwards, and almost immediately recoiled as his bare foot came down on a glowing piece of wood, flames licking at his toes. Te roof creaked and groaned and he just barely managed to throw himself to the ground as more chunks of the ceiling fell. He managed to cough out a wail of pain as something heavy and so so _hot_ landed on his legs, burning him. he struggled, but it did no good; the support beam was several hundred pounds, and he was just four years old. The burning wood ground into his legs, cooking the flesh and making him swuirm about desperately. It did no use.

Succumbing to another fit of hacking, more debris fell around him. he was forced to lay down and cower, arms going up to cover his face as the ceiling above him gave out and fell. It crashed down, sending sparks flying, but miraculously being caught on the remnants of the couch and the beam that trapped him. Plaster, dust, and charcoal rained onto his face, not half a foot from his face. He uncovered his face and looked around. Now he really _was_ trapped, he realized, with eyes watery from smoke and sadness alike.

The fire began to close in. his hearing clouded over; he could no longer hear the crackling flames, the splintering wood, or even his own screams. Violent, hot light invaded his vision as the all consuming flames closed in. They burnt his skin, traveling up his arms and torso, climbing his body. When it reached his face just seconds later, he closed his eyes.

And he burned.

…

Snow whipped into his eyes. An icicle pierced his arm. He tried to cry out, but his lips were frozen together. He took a few more stumbling steps, barely able to move. The snow continued to pull down, whipping his body mercilessly. Every snowflake was sharper than a knife. And he was being assaulted by them, relentlessly, from every angle.

A violent shudder rolled up from his toes, and he came to a halt. Not by choice, though; he had left his feet on the ground too long, and were frozen there. He struggled, trying to free himself, but it was just so cold. He could barely move; everything felt stiff. _Frozen_. He managed to angle his head down, ice cracking in his neck as it broke. His fingers were almost indiscernible, turned bluish green-gray a long time ago. Frost dug under his fingernails, and several layers of snow coated his digits, so they looked choppy and fake. His whole body was covered in it, the snow stinging him before it clung on like armor.

A particularly strong gust knocked him backwards. The skin on his feet tore and cracked as the ice holding them broke, and he felt into the endless waist-deep snow drift he'd been wading through. He moved to get up, but ice held him to the ground. He struggled harder as the snow continued to come down and swiftly blocked out the world above; no matter how bleak, he wanted to get back to it.

But he couldn't. The frozen water held him in place, held him down, and slowly his struggle stopped; he couldn't move. He was buried, and before he knew it he couldn't breathe. Heavy snow blocked his air, his sight,; everything except his hearing. He could hear the muffled, angry screeches of the air high above, somewhere above the deep snow now burying him. It was quite the unappealing sound.

And he was froze.

….

He was stuck. He was hopelessly tangled, ensnared in a horrible trap, laid by mother nature herself. The vines were alive. They coiled up around his ankles, binding him to floor. They whipped at his sides, holding him in place before securing his wrists, and stretching, so he was on display, eagle spread.

They began to cocoon him, wrapping faster and faster, sprouting thorns and poisonous leaves, carving incisions and spreading poison that dissolved his skin. He screamed, but was swiftly silenced by a vine diving down his throat. He gagged as it grew, swelling, till he couldn't breathe at wall. He began to suffocate, trying to flail, as his cocoon prison continued to grow.

Soon he couldn't see his arms, or legs, or abdomen, and was quickly losing sight of his chest. He was looking rather blue, spots dancing in his vision as the lack of oxygen began to affect him. Then the vines were up to his neck, and sliced his throat. Poison rubbed onto his dry, cracked lips and tears fell. The vines closed over his nose, and just before his eyes were trapped, consciousness was lost.

And he was consumed.

 **If you're gonna ask where I'm going with this… eh, I can't tell you. It would spoil the fun. I suck at writing intense stuff, so leave a review with some pointers, critique, etcetera, please? *offers plate of cookies to reviewers* Any guesses as to which predicament belongs to which brother? Anyone? Anyone? A free pizza to anyone who gets it right! XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! Again! I got two reviews and follows! I'm so happy! Thank you so much, people that reviewed and/or followed! ^-^ :) Kay, enjoy!**

 **Also, I don't own the TMNT**

Deep blue eyes, full of tears and spilling over violently, snapped open. His little shoulders shook and heaved and his body trembled all over, as if he were still encased in the freezing ice. The nightmare felt _so real_ \- it always felt so real! The poor four year old had that recurring nightmare every night now, for nearly a month. The first one had been right around the middle of June, something Sensei had noted was called the 'Summer Solstice', the longest and allegedly warmest day of the year. He remembered it being hot, so so hot- too hot for his liking. And that night he'd dreamed of freezing to death, and every night since.

Leo rubbed his eyes roughly and sniffled a bit, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to die, and especially not like that. For a dream, he'd been able to feel everything, all the pain- emotional and physical alike. He'd been terrified, longing for his family. All he got, though, was ice. Cold snow that seemed to freeze him from the inside out, turning him solid.

Whimpering one last time, he kicked away his blanket and slid his legs out of bed. He didn't know what time it was… but he was thirsty. He was always thirsty after hat nightmare. None of the lights were on so he had to squint, and he knew it was very late night- or very early morning. As he stumbled into the kitchen, he was quite surprised to see Donatello there. He had his back to his big brother, perched up on the table. He was surrounded by ice cubes, some crushed into little bits. It was covering his whole body, somehow clinging to his arms and neck and face; everywhere else for that matter.

The eldest hissed and recoiled at the sight of the ice, making Donnie turn to him. He had a lazy, dazed sort of look on his face, his warm brown eyes glazed over. That worried Leo a bit- they only looked like that when they were sick. "Hi Leo," his voice slurred as he held out a hand, holding a perfectly round ball of snow. "Want some ice?"

"No…" he carefully stepped around him, intent on reaching the cabinet they kept their bottled water. "I-I'm go- oof!" he was suddenly tripped by something, landing on his plastron. "O-Ow, what… Mikey, why are you on the floor?"

His youngest brother was lain down eagle spread, face buried in the dirt floor. Leo might've worried he was dead, save for the fact that he could see his sides moving in and out as he breathed. "Want a flower?"

"Um, what?"

"Want a flower?" he repeated, not removing his face from the floor but holding up one arm, holding a five petaled orange flower. "I grew it myself."

"No thanks…"

His hand dropped emotionlessly to the floor, and Leo continued on his quest for water, now a bit creeped out. Donnie was muttering to himself, "Ice snow… snow ice… icy snow… snowy ice…" and Mikey was mumbling to the floor, complaining under his breath about… something. At this point the eldest of the turtles just wanted to get a drink and go back to bed, and inform Sensei of their weird behavior in the morning.

"Gah!"

He cried out in surprise and stumbled back, slipping in a puddle of water. There was his immediate younger brother, Raphael, curled up in the base of the cupboard, things pushed aside. That wasn't the necessarily startling part- though it _was_ weird. The scary part was the various burning coals gathered around his brother in a ring, dangerously close to his skin and bathing him in the slightest glowing red light.

"R-R-Raph?"

One glowing green eyes peaked open, and he promptly growled at Leo, shoving at him before shying away, further into his hidey hole, grumbling to himself and pulling his coals closer, not seeming at all concerned that they would burn his skin.

That was the last straw for Leonardo, and he screamed for his father, running out to meet him halfway.

Splinter was rather surprised when his oldest suddenly grabbed onto his leg, babbling and going on about his brothers in the kitchen. For a long moment he stared at the toddler, unsure what he was upset about. Leo wasn't the type to tattle, not really. "Leonardo," he cut him off sharply. "Why are you and your brothers awake at three in the morning. Should you not be resting?"

"Well, y-yeah Sensei. B-But I had a nightmare I as freezing so I came ta get water a-and then Mikey was on the floor and Donnie was playin' with ice and Raph was sleepin' in fire and-"

"…" Splinter sighed. Of all the four year olds, the oldest was the one he deemed the least likely to have strange dreams, so vivid he'd fool himself into thinking they were reality. But still… e was only a child. It wasn't unheard of. "Calm yourself, my son." He closed his mouth. "Show me what bothers you so."

He scampered off toward the kitchen, eyes wide and his tired father following, more to humor him than anything else. Children wouldn't give up on something until it was proven. When Leonardo saw it was nothing, that he'd just imagined it, Splinter could take him back to bed and then-

Leo heard his father utter a surprised word in Japanese and immediately dove behind him to hide from the strange sight. The entire kitchen floor was covered in water, almost three inches deep. Mikey was still laying face down, not at all bothered by it. Donatello was giggling joyfully and clapping his hands, pointing at the ceiling, which was also wet, where icicles were forming. Raphael was having the strangest and most unlike himself reaction; sitting up in the cupboard, arms full of burning coals and screaming loudly, trying to scoot away from the water; however he'd tragically run out of space.

"What is going on in here?!"

Suddenly, Leonardo shot out from behind him with a joyful squeal. He dropped to his knees in the water and cupped his hands in it, throwing it up above his head. 'Water!" he cheered. "Sensei there's water! Lookit all the water!" he flopped over onto his back, somehow managing to float in the tiny bit of liquid.

Finally snapping out of his stupor, their father at first rushed to Michelangelo, yanking him out of the water and wiping the water off is face. He made a sort of whining sound in his throat and looked at his father with sad eyes. He picked him up and set him on the table, noticing it was now coated with a sheet of flawless ice. It was the middle of July and easily eighty five degrees in their home! Where had the ice come from?!

"Donatello, why are you covered in ice?"

He grinned hugely at his face, showing his gap toothed grin, his teeth sparkling in a way they definitely hadn't before. "Whaddaya mean, Sense? I love ice and snow! Isn't it pretty?"

"Ah… I don't believe so," he gasped like it was a great insult. "Please, remove it from yourself before you contract hypothermia."

"No!"

"Donate-"

"I said no!" he howled, suddenly worked up. "No no no! I like my ice and I'm not getting rid of it! NO!"

Deciding to deal with the suddenly disobedient child later, he approached Raphael, now crying, still cuddling his hot coals like a security blanket, still trying to shy away from the apparently terrifying water. He reached to pick him up, but he screamed louder. "No! Dun' touch me!"

"Raphael-"

"Don't touch me! Stay 'way! Keep the water away!"

"My son-"

"I said keep IT AWAY!"

With that shout, the coals in his arms ignited leading Splinter to step back in shock. Raph scattered then around his huddling, trembling form, and the flames grew at quick speeds, leaping up to form a perfect protective dome around him. Splinter could still see his face, hidden behind the flickering flames. The toddler curled up, looking almost… comfortable. And not scared of the fire at all.

He would have reached in right there, not willing to lose another child to fire, but just then Donatello shrieked, and his fine tuned reflexes just barely made him dodge what would have been a deadly icicle straight through the chest.

"Fire!" sobbed the second youngest, pointing at Raphael and stumbling away. "Fire! Fire! Gonna melt my ice!" He fell off the table and continued to back up, sharp looking icicle patches sprouting up wherever his feet touched,, till his shell hit the wall. Thick frost spread up it, before growing off the wall and forming a cocoon around the boy. It wove itself thicker and thicker, till all you could see was a chrysalis shaped, Donnie sized icy trap.

He looked around in horror as he realized water had sprouted up around Leonardo where he lay on the ground, and his eyes were closed. He didn't appear to be breathing. Where Michelangelo once was, a tiny prison of leaves and vines, now hanging precariously off the refrigerator handle. Raphael's had thickened to lava and hardened into rock.

Needless to say, Splinter panicked.

 **Well… that happened. Theories on what their nightmares represent, and what's happening? Anyone? Anyone?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another day, another chappie! :) Ok, yesterday I received a review (thanks for that, by the way! I really appreciate it), and I guess I should have been a little clearer withy authors note. My mistake- that was the aftermath of their nightmares, in the real world, and I was wondering if anyone had figured out what the boys' nightmares represented.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't possess ownership of these wonderful boys, sadly**

For fourteen days, Splinter was at a loss. He tried to reach his sons, tried to free them, but every time he did, their prisons would quake violently and heal themselves. Any time he touched one, he could see the child within scrunching its face in discomfort. At one point he'd slashed open the ice holding Donatello, but the little turtle within wasn't having it. With eyes glowing white, he'd bared his teeth in an almost feral manner and snarled loudly at him, before silencing. Splinter noticed with relief that he was at least breathing, but that was the only sign he was alive, resting perfectly still inside his capsule of ice, arms crossed in x formation over his chest, hands resting on his shoulders.

As the days progressed, he noticed their capsules shedding, starting to thin and change temperature. Every day, it became colder near Donatello, to the point he could see his breath and frost was growing on the floors. Raph was steaming, and smoking softly, though nothing seemed to ever blaze. Leo's water became clearer every day, and Mikey was dropping leaves like flies.

He was honestly worried they'd never wake up, or die from starvation waiting to emerge, so it was to his great relief when Raphael reappeared. It started seemingly at random, while he was sitting with them. Suddenly, his chrysalis began to quake violently, glowing with red light, and heating up significantly. The walls were thin like gauze, sticky and very stretchy, and semi transparent. He could see the four year olds face scrunching up, frowning as he shifted about, squirming. His eyes remained closed as his arms and legs pushed at the shell, slowly becoming more frantic.

Finally, his hands broke through with a squishy sound, three fingers groping the air, before landing on the walls and beginning to tear at them violently. When he had a large incision, he oozed forward with a liquid flopping sound, landing on the floor covered in a red goo. The ooze had a thick, slimy consistency, and dripped off of him as he sat up slowly, disoriented, wiping his face. As he flung the substance off, it sizzled and crackled, and he realized with a start it was lava.

Eyes fluttered open, with green irises and red streaks. "S'nsei?"

He was in shock and barely stopped his voice from shaking. "Yes, my son?"

"I'm cold," he said simply with a yawn, as if he'd just woken from a nap. "Can we make'a fire?"

He would have told him, no, they couldn't make a fire, if not for a sudden blast of cold air rushing through the room. He shuddered involuntarily, and his little son whimpered like it actually hurt him. Donatello's ensnarement crackled to life, the ice splintering, cracks spider webbing across the surface. He came out a moment later, slumping sleepily to the ground, frost spreading under him. He laid down and curled up, all ready for a snooze it seemed, but he just opened his eyes halfway and said, "'S too hot. Sensei, can I make an air conditioner?"

"No!" Raph sounded absolutely distraught. "You can't! It'll get too cold!"

Donatello stood up shakily, stumbling slightly on the already-unstable toddler legs he hadn't used in two weeks. "No it won't! S'not cold enough!"  
"Is too!"  
"Is not!"

"Feels all nice and right to me," and suddenly Leonardo was there, his capsule suddenly still standing, the water somehow holding its shape. He lay on his back without a care, water droplets falling from nowhere onto him.

Raph hissed at him and recoiled. Donnie frowned deeply. "Cold water's best."  
"Hot is!"  
"Cold!"  
"Hot!"  
"Cold!"  
"Hot!"

A muffled voice called out from behind them, and they looked over at what used to be Michelangelo. A leaf floated down from the very bottom of his hanging trap, and his hand emerged, carefully removing one after the other till he dropped down, landing right on his tail, blinking at them all as he carefully picked up all his fallen leaves. The ones that had shriveled and died immediately sprung back to life. "Warm's the best," he decided firmly. "Warm makes everythin' grow. Too cold an' the rest'a us die. Too hot 'n the rest'a us die. Gotta be just right."

The middle two glared at each other a while longer, before scampering out of the kitchen, intent on hiding away in their own personal space to vent. Leo and Mikey remained with Splinter, watching as their siblings left; one set of foot prints smoking, the other leaving frozen patches on the floor.

"…" the rat honestly had no idea what to say. What had just happened?

"Sensei?" a tiny hand tugged on the fabric of his clothes. "Hey, Se'sei?"

He glanced down. "Ah… yes, Michelangelo?"

A beam lit up the little round face, and he bent down to the ground, gathering something off the ground. A tiny bonsai tree sapling. He held it up to him. "I saw it in one'a yer books! Grew it for you, se'sei, so it be like Ja-pan., jus' like you like… D-Do you like?"

He took it with a rather bemused expression. "Ah… y-yes. It is quite nice. My son?"

"Yes Sensei?"  
"Yeah Sensei?"

"Have you any idea what may have caused this?" had they been experimented on? Gotten into chemicals. Somehow come into contact with more of that strange ooze from years ago?

The oldest and youngest glanced at each other, blue eyes searching each other. They thought about it awhile, vines springing up around Michelangelo's ankles, and the humidity heightened.

At last they shook their heads. "Nuh uh, sensei."  
"Sorry."

"You're certain? Nothing at all?"

"No…" a light rain began to sprinkle down as Leo's face scrunched up in thought. He didn't seemed to notice, but his father and brother did.

"Leooo…" Mikey complained, shaking his head as a huge palm leaf sprouted out of the ground to cover him. "S'top it. Tha's cold, a-and too wet!"

"Hm?" he glanced up, as if only just realizing he was making it rain, and blinked in surprise. "Oh. Oops." His eyes squinted together and his fists clenched… which just made the rain fall harder.

"Leo!"

The four year old nibbled his bottom lip and turned suddenly distressed eyes up to his father. "S-Sensei I can't make it stop! Wh-Whaddo I do?! It won't stop! I can't make it stop!" as his voice rose, the rain elevated to a torrent and then a downpour. They were all steadily soaked, but that didn't stop him from seeing the tears slowly creeping into his eyes, startled and unsure. "I don't know what ta do! Sensei wha'should I do?!"

Mikey went scampering from the room, poison ivy springing up wherever his feet touched.

"Leonardo! You must calm yourself!" 

"I- I can't!"

Water was pooling on the ground. "You can and you must! Keep in mind what I have taught you… you remember mediation?"

He sniffled softly, looking pitiful and depressed standing their soaked in the rain. "Y-Yes… breathe, c-clear my mind…"

"Exactly. Do just that."

He nodded shakily, deep blue eyes fluttering closed, chubby toddler hands reaching up to cover his ears and block out noise. His face scrunched up into a quite comical (and cute) expression of total concentration. After just a bit, his breathing evened out and his shoulders untensed. Slowly, the rain began to slow, till it was just a gentle trickle.

His eyes fluttered open and he removed his hands from his ears, glancing around in surprise. "I… I did it?" a smile lit his face happily, and he giggled. As soft laughter filled the kitchen, all rain stopped, till the air was just misty and there were puddles everywhere. "I did it! I did it, Sensei!" he cheered, happy for himself as he jumped into the nearest puddle, admiring the way the droplets flew up and seemed to come alive, circling around him before lifting into the air to explode like fireworks, congratulating him. "Did- Did I do good S'nsei?"

"…Wonderful, my son." He laid a hand on his head. "Wonderful."

 **Aaaand hyrdokinesis has reared its head for Leo. Tell me whatcha think for what I chose for them all? *leaves out plate of cookies and hides, hoping to catch a glimpse of mystical Reviewers***


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, gonna be honest, the whole time I was writing this it felt like I was parodying Frozen -_- I hope it'll suffice and seem original enough?**

 **Disclaimer: I still have no rights to them… pretty sure that's Nickelodeon. And last time I checked, I'm not Nickelodeon *checks* nope, I'm still not =/ so, yeah, no ownership here!**

 **Kay enjoy!**

After shutting himself into the garage and heaving all the heavy doors closed, Donatello flopped down onto the ground. He probably would've scraped himself up, but a snow drift suddenly appeared to cushion his fall and he giggled. Rolling over onto his stomach, he lay his head on his arm and stared at the sparkling frozen crystals awhile. Blowing on them just lightly, they sprung up and into the air. He laughed again, and shy little flake began to drift down from nowhere till the air was silver and white with fairies dancing on the wind.

"Ooh…" cooing softly, he sat up, staring as they drifted around and touched the ground, falling softly onto his arms. They didn't melt when they touched him, but just rather stuck, so soon sparkled a pretty green. He laughed softly as he admired his glittery new accessories. He raised one hand, and the snow, drawn to it, gathered in his palm. His smile widened, and more massed inside. When he had enough, he stood up, reeled back, and threw the snowball as far as he could. Ten feet away, it seemed to hit an invisible barrier and burst into a shower of sparkles.

"Wow…!" he breathed in awe, spinning around, looking at all that had appeared. No… all that he had created.

Deciding to experiment (as he was a scientist and therefore it was his _job_ to experiment), he bent down and touched both hands to the ground. Instantly, a sheen of ice grew on the ground. Not frost, but actual ice, thick enough to slide on. So, balancing himself carefully, he began to slide around the ice, stumbling and falling and slipping, but not caring one bit. "…If touching the floor made it freeze…" one tiny palm laid itself on the wall, and sparkling frost swirled up. He clapped his hands quietly to himself, slipping over to the next. "This one I want shapes." He decided out loud. "Lots of em. All of 'em!"

As his hands set down on them, the frost spread from his fingertips but much faster, racing over the concrete, and once it was covered, another player came up. However, this one began to draw and sketch, following his wills and whims, drawing out everything from a simple circle to a complex eight sided cube. "Wow…" he admired a nearby pyramid sketch. It was intricately done, decorated like the ones he'd seen in his history textbook, the kind they buried their Pharaohs in.

Eager for more testing, he quickly went for the next wall, slamming his hands down on it as he slipped a bit, trying to steady himself. He got quite a different reaction.

With a great crackling sound, ice leapt onto the wall, but instead of being confined to the single plane, it swallowed up the other walls and ceiling. This ice was choppy like a frozen stormy sea, and rather scary blue-gray instead of sparkling. Icicles grew on the ceiling, but not pretty icicles; pointy, crooked ones that looked ready to impale him. and one nearly did; creaking and groaning before plummeting to the floor, not two inches from his face.

He yelped, jumping back, stumbling on his slippery ice and falling. Fearful, when his hands touched the ground more of the uneven ice spread, and heavy snow began to snow. The flakes were big, and the intensity thickened. Frightened, tears pricked his eyes, spilling and almost immediately freezing on his face.

One shaky hand reached up to touch his cheek, feeling the frozen water, glancing around as the snow closed in around him. Whimpering and trying to back up, his shell touched the door… now frozen shut. Fear escalated quickly, and he hugged his knees, backing away from the door and huddling into a corner. The snow fell harder till it nearly blinded him, but he could vaguely make out various stalagmites of ice rising from the floor.

…

After Mikey went scampering by complaining of Leo making the kitchen too wet, Raph, as much as water distressed him, was eventually won over by his curiosity and left the safety of his room to go and see. When he arrived, the kitchen looked damp but not too bad, and his big brother was meditating with sensei in the dojo.

Muttering to himself, as this seemed to be a waste of time, he spun on his heel and went to head back to his bedroom. As he was passing the garage, he noticed the sheer cold emanating from it, and frowned. How could his so-stupid-he-was-smart little brother think cold was better than _hot_. He could see ice under the door, and in fact creeping under onto the floor, gray frost spreading onto the outside.

Well. He wasn't having _that_.

With some great effort, he grabbed onto the door and attempted to wedge it open. It seemed stuck, and as his frustration grew, so did his body temperature, till eventually the metal of the handle was flowing with heat. Tearing the now molten metal off and dropping it carelessly on the floor, he could now see just a sliver of the inside, and did _not_ like what he saw. The entire thing looked like some kind of barren wasteland of a graveyard for snowmen! Creepy, cold, and gray- definitely not looking like something his brother would make. Donatello may have been strange, but he surely wouldn't make something so yucky and hideous!

…Would he?

Raph shrugged; one way to find out. He stared the whole he'd made, reaching out to touch it, and fire instantly leapt out of his touch, melting the tiny peephole till it was big enough he could press his face close and see it all with one eye. It was blizzarding heavily, the snow halfway up Donnie's tables!

He finally managed to melt enough of the snow welding the door shut (and the door itself) to wedge it open enough he could wriggle through.

Instantly, the newly made pyrokinetic yowled; so so cold! Who's horrible idea was this?! Because he was definitely going to punch them later!

As he shivered, he placed his hot coals atop the snow drift surrounding him, and it immediately melted down so he was standing in an uneven circle of floor. "Donnie!" he yelled. "Donnie where are ya?"

He didn't get an answer. Or… if he did, the wind was too heavy to hear it.

He shuddered as a cold gust touched him, and fire planted itself on the drifts, immediately running around as if alive, melting the snow down quick as it could. Pretty soon the snow was waist high, then knee, then ankle. Then it was gone. He frowned at the icicles growing from the floor and ground alike, and they began to melt under his intense stare. Pretty soon, the whole room was wet with melted ice, not a snowflake in sight.

"R-R-Raph?"

He looked around, and found his immediate little brother huddled in the corner, big brown eyes full of tears and spilling over, sniffling miserably, dripping with melted snow. "Donnie, what's wrong?"

He jumped up and stumbled over, snow spreading under his feet as he latched onto his brother, knowing Raphael hated hugs but desperate for comfort.

"I couldn't stop!" he sobbed. "I tried and it wouldn't listen! It jus' kept growing and growing an' growing and- and… Raph I was _so scared_!"

"It's ok Donnie, i-its ok…" he murmured, carefully hugging his brother back as he sobbed quietly.

"N-No its not…" he whimpered. "I's really not! I- I couldn't make it stop! It wouldn't listen!"

"So?" he almost laughed. "Donnie yer like the smartest guy ever… you'll learn how ta _make_ it listen!"

He looked up at him with watery eyes. The tears were freezing on his face again, so Raph's hand carefully heated itself to melt them away "B-But what if I don't?"

"Then I'll just come melt it again."

"P-Promise?"

He squeezed him tighter. "I promise."

 ***snaps picture of mystical Reviewer* Ha! I got proof! They do exist! YES! *looks at picture* oh wait… its all blurry. Crap. *leaves out plate of fresh cookies and brownies and hides again***


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